


set the fire to the third bar

by wellfourthings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AHDA, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kate & Gerard Argent Antics, M/M, Tresspassing To Talk, Warning: Kate Argent, and just for the hell of it, don't try this at home moments, overuse of dialogue, references to the hale fire, relentless sarcasm, timeline discrepancies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1435495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellfourthings/pseuds/wellfourthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not really in the habit of extending invitations to people who come to kill me, actually," Peter informs him.</p>
<p>"Shockingly, I'm not here to kill you," Chris says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. find a map and draw a straight line

**Author's Note:**

> I fell down a rabbithole a few months ago. This is the result of where I ended up.  
> All of the thanks to [Phazzy](http://celestialgekigami.tumblr.com/) for her beta, despite not being part of this fandom. Also, for enabling me.  
> The work title, as well as all the chapter titles thus far, come from Snow Patrol's song of the same name.  
> =====  
> 06.24.14: ...and we are officially canon divergent!

Chris has been standing in the doorway for a solid five minutes without saying a word before Peter acknowledges his presence.

"Shoot me or go away, Argent," Peter finally says not bothering with opening his eyes.

"Or you could just invite me in and we could skip that part," Chris responds.

"I'm not really in the habit of extending invitations to people who come to kill me, actually," Peter informs him.

"Shockingly, I'm not here to kill you," Chris says.

Peter cracks his eyes open just enough to look at him incredulously.

"Fine, you're clearly not going to leave me in peace until you've said your piece. So come in and let's get this over with," says Peter.

"Is anything not an argument with you?" Chris asks, already exasperated before he's been in the door ten minutes.

"It's Tuesday morning and there's an Argent in my living room who wants something and won't tell me what the hell his problem is, so no," Peter snarks back.

"It's funny you should mention that, because I'm not here because I want something, I'm here about what the hell my problem is," Chris snaps.

They sit opposite one another glaring for a minute before Chris sighs out, "Nothing about any of this makes sense. A Kitsune buries something beneath a druid tree. Decades later, the kids reset that beacon and draw out a whole host of problems. There were plenty of events with the Nemeton in between. The timeline makes no sense."

Peter stares at him like he's just done the chicken dance for no apparent reason and sat down again like nothing happened.

"You're here to talk to me about how the logic of an old magic tree makes no sense," Peter finally says, flatly.

"More or less," Chris confirms.

"...It's a tree. Go away, Argent," Peter says, leaning back to his original position.

"Derek's girlfriend was the virgin who died there, wasn't she?" Chris bites out.

Peter stands up, "I don't see where that's any of your concern. Yet, you're still here."

"There is no possible way that you actually think this is what it looks like," Chris insists.

Peter stands in silence for a few moments before finally sighing, "Alright. Fine. This is almost definitely not what it looks like. However, I don't see what you expect to learn from me that we don't already know."

Chris huffs, "Of course. You never hold back information for your own personal benefit."

"I don't recall ever claiming otherwise. I assume you have a point?" Peter returns.

Chris' hand clenches at his left side as he grits out, "Just tell me what you know, Hale. Then I can leave and we can both go back to ignoring each other."

"You wound me," Peter drawls out, "Fine. But you aren't going to like what I have to say."

"When do we ever?" Chris asks.

"You already have most of the picture in front of you. You said yourself, there were plenty of events in between all of this with the Nemeton. But you aren't seeing the whole board. What triggered all the events that led to Scott, Stiles, and Allison resetting the beacon? What one incident ties all of this together, and brought about the circumstances required to put the right people in the right positions to have to make that particular move?" Peter hedges.

"That's all just a messy loop of random events," Chris says.

"Is it? Or is it a web? Follow the right thread all the way back to the source, where does it lead you?" Peter nudges.

"Kate. It leads back to Kate. But she's dead, and she couldn't possibly have known enough to set all this in motion," Chris says.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Go back further. I told you, you aren't seeing the whole board." Peter responds.

"Gerard. That's as far back as it goes. That doesn't explain how Kate plays into this," Chris mutters.

"Doesn't it? Remember what she said? At the very end, she said, 'I did what I was told to do.' Told by who? Told to do it why?" Peter pushes.

"Gerard. It's always Gerard. But why would he tell her to do that?" Chris asks.

"Well, admittedly, I haven't encountered your father in this decade, but given what I remember, and what I've heard about recent events, I would say probably because he knew," Peter spits out.

"Knew what? What could he possibly know that would compel him to have a whole family, children and innocents, burned alive?" Chris demands.

Peter doesn't say a word in response, he just looks directly across the table at Chris in silence, waiting for the moment that it clicks.

Chris takes some time to sort it out, after he accepts that Peter isn't going to answer him. He spends a few minutes sorting through everything he knows now and everything that he didn't know then, looking for the common thread. Then, abruptly, his eyes snap back up to look at Peter.

"You can't possibly mean that. There isn't a way," Chris bites out.

"Oh, but I can. It's the only thing that makes sense. He knew, Argent," Peter says.

"How could he possibly have known? No one knew. You knew, and I knew, and I didn't tell him. So unless you've been having secret meetings with Gerard and sharing secrets, he couldn't have known," Chris says, dismissively.

"Kate knew," Peter drops.

Chris stares at him in disbelief and says, "Kate didn't know, no one ever found out."

Peter rubs the bridge of his nose with two fingers and sighs out, "Kate knew. She knew, Chris. She knew for a very long time. Well before the fire."

"How could Kate have known? Until last year, you and I hadn't seen each other in well over a decade. That was so long ago... Why would something that we did that many years ago matter to Kate? Nothing like that ever mattered to Kate," Chris says.

"You can't even say it? I feel like I should be offended. Grievously insulted, even," Peter needles.

"I don't see you rushing to say it either, do you?" Chris returns.

"I'm not the one with the problem saying that we have a history. A long and storied history, the sort of history we should never tell the children. You, on the other hand, seem to be having a lot of problems admitting to it," Peter says it like he's issuing a challenge.

Chris crosses his arms and responds, "I was never the one who had any problems saying anything. Not then, and not now. You were always the one in denial, even when we were together. You and I had a brief little fling, years ago. You snapped, left, I never heard about you again until you started murdering people. There. Are you happy? Because this little game of chicken isn't getting us anywhere."

Peter looks about half pleased, then like a stormcloud, very quickly, before he says, "Do you know what I remember about Katie, from back then? I remember that she adored you. She wanted to be just like you, she had a hero worship of her big brother. It was almost what I might call reverent. Even when she was a little girl, she followed you everywhere you went. I thought it was adorable, at the time. Which is why I remember seeing her at all."

Peter pauses, briefly closing his eyes before continuing, "It's why I remember seeing her one of the last times I saw you."

Chris looks at him sharply, "You saw Kate. When we were somewhere together. You saw Kate and she saw us and you never said a word?"

"Well, I could see her, and she looked directly at us before she ran off, so I'm assuming she could see me," Peter deadpans.

"When was this? Why the hell didn't you say anything?" Chris hisses.

"Late November. The last week, I believe. I didn't say anything because it didn't seem relevant at the time, and when it was... I didn't have the option," Peter says, tightly.

"The last week of November. The next time I saw you after that would have been the last time, and you didn't think it was relevant to tell me that my little sister was following me around and spying? You didn't think that was information I might have needed?" Chris doesn't ask it so much as he barks it.

"There was a reason that was the last time, you know," Peter informs him.

"So Kate knew. Kate knew all along," Chris says instead of responding to that.

"Kate knew," Peter repeats.

"Kate knew, and she told Gerard. Why would she do that?" Chris pushes out.

"Haven't you been paying attention? She worshiped the ground you walked on, back then. I would imagine that she thought she was saving you, somehow," Peter drawls.

The sarcasm in Chris' voice is strong as he says, "Saving me from what? From you?"

"Saving you from yourself," Peter mutters.

They stand there, staring at one another, in total silence, for some minutes.

That one detail, the fact that Kate had known about them then, known the whole time, ties the rest together. The thread that shows them the whole board.

"All of this was over twenty years ago, why would it matter anymore?" Chris finally asks.

"When has the history of anyone in this town not come back to bite them?" Peter returns, then he sinks back down into his seat, thinking it would all be more appropriate if he had a drink in hand for this.

Chris drags a hand down his face, twice, and refuses to look back at Peter. Eventually, he walks out without a word.

Sometimes, seeing the whole board makes you realise you would rather have not.


	2. hang my coat up in the first bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So you’ve been here at least three hours. Sitting around, lurking in the dark, lying in wait. You are aware that you are not actually a Bond villain, right?" Chris says.
> 
> "First, that’s my line. Second, I’m flattered," Peter replies.

Chris heads directly for his office as soon as he’s back in the apartment, barely bothering with the lightswitch before settling his bag on the desk, much less closing the door.

"There’s something else you don’t know," Peter’s voice comes from behind him, and Chris’ hand goes to unclip his holster in a reflexive movement too quick to track. He turns to find Peter relaxed in a corner chair, feet propped up on the stool.

"Yes. I don’t know why you are here, lounging in my darkened office like you think you’re in a bad spy movie. I do know that you need to leave," Chris says.

"You should know that it involves your father. More deeply than I may have implied," Peter says, ignoring both the move to the gun and the sarcasm that followed it.

Chris gives a kind of full body sigh that is felt as much as heard or seen, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Then he says, “Is this really necessary? I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but a seventeen year old boy possessed by a psychotic fox spirit is going around killing everyone he can find, and I’ve had just about all the overdramatic impending doom I can take for the day.”

Peter raises an eyebrow and says, “You know, I think I remember having heard something about that, in passing. Teenagers, these days. It must be getting bad. You can’t just rebel in normal ways, date someone your parents disapprove of, steal your dad’s bourbon to get drunk under the bleachers, and come home at four in the morning… No, you have to go and get yourself possessed by a supernatural trickster bent on destruction to get any attention, anymore.”

Chris’ mouth twitches ever so slightly and he shakes his head.

Peter, having broken the mood, continues, “As long as you don’t end up at some point saying, ‘I’m too old for this shit,’ I think we’ll be fine.”

Chris almost laughs that time, and resignedly responds, “Alright, fine. Say your piece, just stop with the relentless sarcasm and pop culture references from the 90’s.”

Peter actually smirks, “Well, it worked, didn’t it? The ends justify the means. Everything is ridiculous. I’m a werewolf sitting in the office of a werewolf hunter, trying to explain that I was summoned by his psychotic father a over a decade ago. In order to have a little chat over lunch, with some light threats and a side of ultimatum. Are we starting to notice a running theme?”

"Gerard invited you over for lunch to talk about life?" Chris asks.

Peter nods.

"He never changes. That’s still his favourite move. He must get off on his own twisted logic,” Chris says.

"Based on the content of that meal, that sounds accurate. …You’re being remarkably calm about this information, considering,” Peter says.

Chris moves to turn a chair from the front of his desk around, then takes a seat in it, and when he replies, there’s something of a shrug in his voice that is very nearly visible, “Recent events have taught me not to be surprised by anything Gerard ever does or says. What did he have to say, then?”

"Oh, you know, the usual. ‘I know who you are and what you are, and this is what you’re going to do.’ A drawn out speech about harsh realities, the inevitable, and how I would eventually kill someone, even if I didn’t think I would. He seemed to really enjoy listening to himself talk," Peter rolls his eyes.

"Are you going to give me the punchline you came here to deliver, at some point, or continue to dance around it all night?” Chris askes, pointedly.

"Down, boy. I’m getting there. In this case the punchline, as it were, comes with an actual punch. He hinted at it the entire time he was eating, and just seemed to be enjoying himself. As if it were the highlight of his week to sit down with werewolves and play mind games over his lunch. I know I’ve done some unsavoury things, but your dad, Argent… Anyway, when he eventually couldn’t stall anymore, he finally got to his point. Which turned out to be informing me that if I didn’t disappear, promptly, and make a good show of effort out of it, there would be extreme consequences to my actions. He never outright said ‘I’m going to cut you in half,’ but the sentiment was very heavily implied,” Peter seems to have to force out the last part with a breath.

Chris crosses his arms and leans back in his seat, his irritation with the stop and start of this so pronounced it’s practically radiating out from him, but he doesn’t actually say a word.

Peter picks up where he left off, “He never said that he knew what we were up to, but it was painfully clear that Kate had told him what she saw. The rest was just speculation on what might happen. Nothing overt, nothing specific, just hints at the actual threats. He was very careful to maintain something that approached plausible deniability. I was meant to never cross his path again, or there would be… repercussions.”

"So he never said anything, then," Chris says.

"He didn’t have to. It was made perfectly clear what would happen," Peter replies.

"What was going to happen?" Chris asks.

"Everything. Everyone. He didn’t actually give me the specifics, or a list, but it was pretty easy to guess the names. My whole family, pack, everyone. He made sure I understood that he wouldn’t kill me to start with. That everyone I knew would go first, while I watched. It would start small. Someone would have a mysterious accident, and then there would be another unfortunate incident, and so on. The impression was that the dominos would just never stop falling,” Peter says.

"Why is this the first I'm hearing of any of this?” Chris asks, irritated.

"I was led to understand that you were never supposed to know. That the same rules applied to telling anyone as to not leaving,” Peter responds.

"I remember that day. Gerard went missing for at least five hours out of that day, with no explanation. When he came home he looked especially pleased with himself, and when I asked him why, he just told me that it had been a very successful work day. It didn’t make any sense, because we didn’t have any active deals on the table. I saw you later that night, and, you… what? Didn’t think I could keep it a secret from him if I knew? That’s a bit of a stretch, considering we were keeping so many at the time,” Chris seethes.

Peter goes very still and his jaw clenches up. He doesn’t answer the question, just presses his fingers harder into his hands and says, “Consequences.”

Chris forces eye contact for long enough to say, “You broke into my home in order to tell me whatever the ending to this story is, and you’re spectacularly failing to tell it. Whatever it is, it’s clearly important enough to you that I know it that you felt getting shot was a relative risk. Would you just get to the point, before there’s another crisis and someone shows up here to rope me into a search and rescue party? Unless you’d like to explain to… let’s say Derek, for instance, what you’re doing here.”

Peter seems to tense further, if that’s possible, and grits out from between clenched teeth, “Fine. I didn’t tell you then for the same reasons I don’t want to tell you now. For all I knew, Kate could have been lurking around somewhere, then, too. She probably was.”

"I refuse to believe that you were scared of my little sister. It is especially doubtful that you were scared enough of her that you thought anyone couldn’t protect themselves from an eleven year old and a couple of hunters. Try again," Chris says.

"You really don’t want to know all of it, Argent, so just take it for what it is and start putting the pieces together," Peter spits, rising and moving to leave.

Chris stands to match him, blocking his way.

"You are being ridiculously overdramatic, even for you. Just tell me what the connecting factor is, so we can be done with this mess. You had a pressure point. It happens. Why do you have to make everything so difficult? All of this is ancient history, and everyone who could follow through on any threats either already has, or is dead. Gerard is an invalid sitting in an assisted living facility leaking black goo out of every orifice. He’s no threat to anyone by himself, he’s very short on allies at the moment, and frankly, you’re short on things to attack. You’ve got nothing to lose, Peter,” Chris says.

Peter startles and his eyes snap to Chris’ at that, widening slightly. He considers him for a moment, then shifts back to face him properly, and says, “It’s not that important, and it won’t make you happy to know. There’s really no reason for you to worry about this part, it’s just ancient nonsense.”

"When have I ever liked anything Gerard has ever done?" Chris asks.

Peter pointedly looks away as he says, “He made it abudantly clear that if it came to a head, he wouldn’t have a problem with harming anyone at all. He was very convincing. I believed him when he said that if it came to it, he would kill family.”

Chris has no visible reaction to this, so after a moment, Peter drags a hand through his hair and leans back against the door.

"You aren’t going to let me leave until I explicitly state it, are you? Not without this escalating to pointless violence?" he asks.

Chris just shakes his head in response.

"That’s quite irritating, you know. Fine. You want to know who he threatened, that badly? Fine. He spent a good twenty minutes talking about how he knew that we spent a lot time together. He was mocking about it. How we should be more careful, how I should know better, because you never know who might be watching, or when. How anyone could be tracked. He made a very big deal about how easy it all would be. You were the pressure point, Chris. Obviously. After that conversation, I wasn’t going to say a damned word to anyone. He made his point,” Peter finished, finally.

"That’s not really surprising. He’s said as much before. That when it came to survival, wouldn’t hesitate to kill me. It’s not news,” Chris says.

"I know. I was there," Peter says.

"Lurking and waiting for an opening. I remember, claws and such. You do that. How long were you here, lurking, before I got here?" Chris asks.

Peter shrugs, “Long enough to know you took your time getting back.”

"So you’ve been here at least three hours. Sitting around, lurking in the dark, lying in wait. You are aware that you are not actually a Bond villain, right?" Chris says.

"First, that’s my line. Second, I’m flattered," Peter replies.

"Of course you would be. You’re becoming a cliche. So you didn’t want to tell me because of what, then?" Chris asks.

Peter raises his eyebrows in lieu of an answer.

"Really? Didn’t you come back from the dead once? I’m no expert, but I think you’re supposed to be passed the stage of your life where you communicate primarily via moody looks," Chris says.

"Well, that was just uncalled for, Argent. It was need to know. You didn’t," Peter responds, very carefully not shifting his movement at all.

"Oh. So that’s it. You didn’t want me to know because it makes you look vulnerable. That’s… very you,” Chris nods.

"Can we return to the point? More importantly, stray away from you psychoanalysing me, if at all possible,” Peter grumbles.

"Gerard being Gerard is not new information, it’s just more confirmation of something everyone already knew," Chris says.

"No, it’s not new. However, from what I’m given to understand, he does usually keep to the letter of his word, when he gives it," Peter says.

“…Usually he’s fanatical about it, actually,” Chris confirms.

"So? I held up my end. I vanished and never said a word. Until now. You may notice, however, that I now have several family members less than I had seven years ago," Peter says.

"That is… a little worrisome, I’ll admit,” Chris says.

"A little," Peter agrees.

They stand there, contemplating the implications of that detail, for some moments.

"We’ll have to figure that out-" Chris is cut off by his phone chirping to signify a message. He slides it open, then looks up at Peter to say, "Well, apparently we’ll have to figure that out later."

"Another crisis?" Peter asks.

"Another crisis," Chris confirms.

There is always going to be another crisis. That’s how you distract yourself from being able to see the whole board to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, all of the thanks to [Phazzy](http://celestialgekigami.tumblr.com/) for putting up with and enabling me all for a fandom she's not part of, yet.
> 
> As well as special thanks to [Mina](http://inouken.tumblr.com/), for coming in to rescue us all from characterisation problems at the last minute and also putting up with all of my nonsense. Of which there is a lot.


	3. there is no peace that I've found so far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Bourbon. You broke into my house to offer me a drink," Chris says, incredulously.
> 
> "You look like you could use it," Peter tells him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the thanks in existence to [Mina](http://inouken.tumblr.com/) and [Phazzy](http://celestialgekigami.tumblr.com/), who both had to deal with me having a meltdown in spectacular fashion this week. As well as a round for [Claire](http://http://moonlettuce.tumblr.com/), for coming to rescue me from myself this morning.
> 
> I've stretched the timeframe out, slightly, to accommodate one specific event and keep it within the right timeline.
> 
> Okay, kids. This is where it gets complicated. There's even a brief flashback. Then, next week, a familiar face.

  
_That_  crisis turns out to be hijacked by Stiles’ current mental houseguest. The the next one is a little bit explosive, and Chris finds himself in the middle of it before having the chance to take a breath.

The one after that is all smoke and mirrors and silver tipped questions, and when the smoke clears, Argent’s daughter is gone. The final gone, the permanent one. Some people, they come back from things like that. But not Allison. Even if she could, she wouldn’t choose to come back.

After, when all the dust has settled, and the Nogitsune has been finished, Peter does something he wasn’t even expecting himself to do. He’d been holed up in his own apartment for the duration, going through everything he could remember from the mid nineties, trying to find something to trigger a memory about his family, his child, who her mother was, anything really. Without even the slightest bit of luck. So he put it aside for a while, and went to deal with the other side of current events.

Peter goes to the funeral, but he keeps out of sight. There are some things you do and some that you just don’t. But he watches. He watches the service. It’s simple and poetic and it does a certain kind of justice. It’s appropriate for her. He watches the kids cling together, having lost one of their own. This is the first time they’ve all been gathered around a gravesite, but given the circumstances, it's hardly likely to be the last. He watches Isaac wedged in between Chris and Scott, glued to their sides. He recognises the feeling. That Isaac feels if he lets go, even for a moment, he will fall, and shatter, and drown. He watches Lydia falling to pieces behind a blank, stone-faced mask, because that’s what she believes Allison would do. 

He watches Melissa and the Sheriff and Deaton huddled together, watching the kids, looking for all the world like they have no idea at all what to do, or to say. They aren't even really 'the kids', anymore. Now, they're standing in the middle of it, mourning the link who bound everyone together. They aren't children, now. They couldn't be. They've lost one of their own, right in front of their eyes, to the front lines of a war that she was born into and that none of them asked for. They will never be kids again, after this. Not really. And there isn't a damned thing to say to that.

Mostly, he watches Chris. He watches him suddenly lack something he didn’t lose before, after his sister, or after his wife. He watches him empty and dead inside, a little more broken than he has been before, a little more than he ever should let himself be. He watches him mourning his daughter until it feels like he’s intruding on something he shouldn’t. Then he turns and leaves.

=====

It isn’t even worth wondering how Peter got into the apartment this time, by the time he’s tapping Chris on the shoulder and holding out a bottle of Blanton’s Original. Breaking and entering is becoming almost a habit for him, or at least that’s what it looks like.

"Bourbon. You broke into my house to offer me a drink," Chris says, incredulously.

"You look like you could use it," Peter tells him.

Chris can't really argue with that, so a moment later, they're each holding a glass from the ridiculously shaped bottle, and it doesn't necessarily help, but it does at least feel good as it goes down. Smooth.

"I was there, you know. I went to the funeral. I know it doesn’t make anything better, and that nothing could. But it was a beautiful service. You honoured your daughter, Chris,” Peter says.

"I never saw you," Chris says.

"You weren’t meant to. It wouldn’t have been right," Peter explains.

"You being seen at my daughter’s funeral? No. I don’t think it would have been," Chris says.

"I didn’t feel it would be… appropriate,” Peter tells him.

" _You_  were trying to be respectful. Now I’ve seen everything," Chris says.

"Not everything. Not quite yet, I would think. The hits just never seem to stop coming," Peter pauses, then adds, "You can’t let this bury you. Believe me, no one knows more than I do how easy it would be. You won’t like who that makes you into. But if you let it, you will drown in it. You can’t afford that, now. There are people still counting on you, and you, for reasons I can’t fathom, actually care about that."

Chris scoffs and just goes quiet, as if he thinks there isn’t anything else to say.

There’s a moment when Peter just  _snaps_ , done with all of the pretense littering the space inbetween the encounters where they try to work out what happened. When it happens, it’s swift, but also somehow quiet.

"Can you just drop this act for a moment? One real thing. Just one," Peter asks.

Chris’ features are carefully blank. He’s silent, and he’s not quite looking at Peter at all, his focus is just left of center. There is something empty and somehow fragile to it. The sort of blankness that reveals more by what it isn’t than either eye contact or words could.

Peter tries again, “Just once, could you admit the reality of it?”

Still, Chris says nothing.

"You don’t actually have to say it. I’ll even say it all for you. I’m standing here having this non-conversation with you, I’m still breathing at all, because on some level you were relieved. You were prepared to take Kate out yourself, if you had to, if it came to that. But you didn’t have to, because I beat you to it. I’m still here because on some level, you were  _ **grateful**_ that I finished it and you didn’t have to kill your baby sister,” says Peter.

Chris shifts his eyes ever so slightly to focus on Peter, taking brief, shallow breaths. Finally, he gives a slow nod and says, barely audible, “You are… not wrong.”

After that a long silence hangs in the room, heavy, around them. There isn’t anything more to be said about that, now. That was enough. Acknowleding it, making it real, sometimes just helps.

"You’re more right than you think. Kate triggered all of this," says Chris, finally.

"I know that. That's what we've been playing around the edges of this entire time," Peter returns.

"No. More than that. It's to do with Kate, because she's back," Chris says.

"That is completely impossible. Well, almost completely impossible," Peter informs him.

"It's not. She's back and she's here," Chris insists.

"Not to open wounds best left untouched, but she can't possibly be. I killed her. Me. I killed her myself," Peter says.

"I didn't say it made sense. Just that it was true," Chris says in return.

"And I'm telling you that it isn't possible. I killed her. I was holding her in my arms when I sliced through her throat. I heard her heart stop beating. I  _felt_ it stop," Peter should be shouting, but he isn't, he's barely speaking at a normal volume.

"You came back," Chris points out.

"Yes, and that was a very unique case that took quite some time to arrange, a complicated ritual involving mirrors and moonlight and my own nephew, exactly the right circumstances, and a tiny bit of nearly impossible magic. It wasn't easy. It had consequences. She was dead. You don't just spontaneously come back from the dead whenever you feel like it," Peter insists.

"I can prove it, at least part of it," Chris says, then pulls the shell casing from his pocket and tosses it to Peter.

Peter nearly snatches it out of the air to stare at it, not even sure what he's looking for, because it isn't as if he's ever actually seen the shells Kate uses. When he speaks, it's barely even a whisper, "This has to be a trick. She was dead. She bled out. Your father came and turned hell loose on this town in revenge! You  _held a funeral_!"

"She asked me once, a little while before that, if it were possible to be turned by a scratch. I told her that if the claws went deep enough, maybe. Was I wrong?" Chris asks.

Peter stares at him for a moment, "Possibly. I don't know. It's not completely impossible, but... one in a million chance, maybe? It would be unspeakably rare."

"Could you improve the chances, if you knew what you were heading towards? If you knew you were going to die at the hands of an alpha, could you do things that would make it more likely that it turned you instead of killed you?" Chris asks.

"It's maybe possible. Within reason, with enough determination and a very strong sense of will. But you would need something to hold on to. Something to cling to. I don't know, anything is possible. I'm not an encyclopedia of the supernatural, Chris," Peter bursts out at the end.

"Maybe not, but you  _are_ supernatural. And my sister is somewhere wandering around right now doing god knows what to god knows who, god knows where," Chris says.

"Yes, but I was born a werewolf. Not made one. There are slightly different rules. And now... your father, maybe your sister, trying to turn. The Argents as wolves. Werewolf werewolf hunters. I can't even begin to contemplate the horror that implies..." Peter trails off and then suddenly goes rigid again, "Wait, say that again. What did you just say?"

"That Kate is out there somewhere, wandering around, right now," Chris repeats.

"Doing god knows what to god knows who, god knows where... IF she's back, Argent, and I'm not convinced that she is, but if she is back... We have a problem," Peter says.

"I'd say we have more than one, the first of which is finding her," Chris says.

"No. Something bigger. Because I have a feeling I know where she would go. If Kate was back, if that really happened, and she was on a revenge mission, why wouldn't she come at me? Why wouldn't I already know?" Peter leads.

"You would. She probably already has something in motion, for you," Chris says.

"Maybe. But she wouldn't start with me. I'm not the one she obsessed over," Peter says, staring at Chris.

They stare back and forth at one another for a moment, then break eye contact as Peter scrambles to dial an number in his phone.

It just rings and rings and rings until the voicemail picks up.

"Shit. He's not answering. It's ringing out to voicemail," Peter swears.

He glances back at Chris and continues, "I have to go see Derek and make sure... I have to go," before he shrugs on his coat and makes for the door.

He hears the jingling of Chris' keys behind him, followed by the words, "I'll drive."

Peter looks back at him, hesitating for a second, then says, "Only if you're willing to break the speed limit the whole way there."

Chris huffs and nods, and then they're both moving again. The elevator ride down to the lobby seems to multiply by twenty the normal amount of time it takes, and Peter is regretting slightly not taking the stairs. But then they're in Chris' SUV and driving much faster than Peter assumed the huge vehicle could go.

He's wondering if Chris maybe had some improvements made to the internal systems, and then suddenly he's flashing back twenty years to an entirely different speeding car ride, for an entirely more acceptable reason.

A different stage, but the same players.

=====

_He'd made a stupid joke, something about the city being better for being anonymous, and being more fun besides. The next moment, Chris had been looking at him with both eyebrows raised, and then they were in the car, flying down I-80._

_Chris is laughing and Peter has one hand pressed over his knee and for the moment, they're just... happy._

_"We're both screwed, you know. Gerard is going to have an apoplectic fit over you disappearing like this," Peter says. He's serious, but he's grinning, because it's contagious and there's no real threat anywhere nearby._

_"Well, he can try. I'd like to see that, actually, since I've got his car," Chris grins back._

_"Christopher! I'm absolutely shocked. You're so cavalier about your irresponsibility and thievery," Peter teases._

_"The day you're shocked by anyone being a general nusance or disregard for rules is a day I really want to be there to see," Chris declares._

_"Mmm. You will be, I think," he squeezes the hand he has over Chris' leg. The part he thinks but doesn't say is, 'I hope.'_

_Chris seems to hear it anyway, because he says, "No, I will. Wouldn't miss that, you know."_

_He shoots a quick smile at Peter before settling his eyes back on the road. This won't be a fun little field trip if they crash into a guard rail, or someone's truck. At least not for him, anyway._

_They're pushing 80 at the slowest point, and it's getting dark but not really late, so it's a little surprising that no one has tried to pull them over yet, and Peter is just leaning his head back on the rest and trailing the fingers of his free hand out the window, thinking about what it would be like to be able to freeze this and keep driving forever. It's just... calm, and peaceful, and that isn't something they get a whole lot of when they're back home._

_Chris drops a hand from the steering wheel to rest on his and squeeze his fingers for just a moment, and they both know this can't last, that they're going to be in a world of trouble when they finally go home, but that somehow just makes this part better._

_They're coming up on Sacramento when Peter looks over and Chris meets his eyes for a moment. It was a joke, but now they're almost there, and it seems like they're actually going to go and spend the night or so in the city, away from all the problems that live with them back in Beacon Hills._

_Chris is slowing down and pulling off onto an exit ramp and Peter is just having a rare moment where he's... content._

=====

When Peter snaps back to reality, it's because Chris is slowing down in the present, too, and saying his name.

"You went somewhere, just now, didn't you?" Chris asks.

"No, just thinking," Peter tells him.

"I've been saying your name for the last five minutes," Chris says.

"I can't always be paying attention to everyone, you know. It's exhausting," Peter deflects. He doesn't need to know that Peter was back at the night they'd left Tuttle Lake and decided to just disappear into the city together for a couple of days. No one needs to know that.  _Peter_ doesn't even need to know that, and he can't explain why he slipped back there for a moment, anyway.

"Fine. We have bigger things to deal with than you being neurotic anyway. Just don't do it in there, alright?" Chris gestures up at Derek's loft as he pulls into the carpark and throws the vehicle into gear. "Knowing Kate, if she's up there, she has a gun. And absolutely no qualms about shooting any of us. If I get shot by my little sister because you zone out, this little truce ends."

"Message recieved, loud and clear, Argent. You can stop now," Peter scoffs.

"Let's just go, alright?" Chris says.

When they finally get all the way up to the loft and Peter slides the door open, it looks half wrecked, and Derek is sitting on the edge of the couch, holding his head in both hands, shirt destroyed in the middle by what looks to have been the blast of a shotgun.

"You look like hell, but not like you couldn't pick up the damned phone, so why don't you try that next time?" Peter demands.

Derek slowly raises his head and takes the both of them in, but his eyes land on Peter's and stay there. He looks shaken, and haunted.

Chris is the one to speak up about it, not even bothering to wait for the moment, "...Kate?"

Derek looks down, taps each of his fingers against one another, then nods, very slowly, and says, "She was here. She was really here, and she's... different. She's not human."

Chris and Peter exchange a quick glance, then Peter says, "I hate to admit when you're right, Argent, but this..."

And then, "Where did she go? When did she even leave?"

Derek looks at him in the most sarcastic manner possible, "Gee, I didn't really have time to ask while we were having such a lovely time, Peter. I guess she didn't think to include where she was heading, since she was just here for a drink and a little chat to catch up on old times."

"Is the relentless sarcasm helping?" Peter returns.

"Not really." Derek says.

"Then maybe you should stop," Peter suggests.

"If you two could both stop, for a moment, it would help. Because I personally feel like we have bigger problems to sort out, here, and I don't have all night. There's an entirely different werewolf, packing, and waiting for me to come pick him up, across town," Chris says, like he can't even contemplate the ridiculousness of his own situation.

"I don't know what you expect. We know what you know. She was here, she's alive, she left. We have no idea where she went from here. Did I miss anything?" Peter asks.

"No. No, you didn't. So there's nothing I can do here, and I'm going to go. I have a plane trip to arrange for." Chris says.

"You're taking Isaac with you... to France?" Peter asks, disbelief dripping from his voice.

"Don't. Just don't, Hale. This is not the moment." Chris says.

And it isn't, so Peter doesn't comment on how his position on werewolves has shifted by something near 180 degrees in the last year, and Chris walks out of the loft to attend to his own affairs.

Leaving Peter and Derek to stare at one another in silence, and Peter to wish just a little that they had seen this coming, had at least tried to see the rest of the board, before now.  

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP. Yes, I hate those too, I'm sorry.  
> I'll try to be good. Encouragement helps. So do guilt, and nudging.  
> You can find me over [here](http://wellfourthings.tumblr.com/) to do those things.


End file.
